No Matter How I Look at it, It's Your Guys'Fault I Shot Up the School
by Kamen Nero
Summary: Tattling, nagging, abusing, beating, all symptoms of bullying. Some accept their fate. Some run away. Others fight back, using whatever methods available to strike at their attackers, their demons. Tomoko Kuroki fits that last category.


The sky was violently blue, but it faded into tumultuous light-gray clouds in the east, shrouding everything in sight under it, as if God himself wished to ease the eyes of his mortal subjects. He was right to do so, for everyone was already feeling slightly off, whether it be small droplets of concern, a dash of fear, or the fact of life that is the Japanese school system and its way of crushing souls everywhere systematically and impartially. The outer wall of Hibiya High feels much higher than it actually is, but the students don't care.

Tomoko was walking along the wall, brisk with a short stride, with her head slouched, presumably to hide her face from onlookers. However, deep inside she knew that no matter what she does, not a soul would care. She'd be practically invisible. The gatekeeper, watching every student who enters like a hawk caring for its young, didn't even look at her, and this lack of attention only clawed at Tomoko's heart harder.

Punctuating every word, she concieved her plan further, going on to think, "She will be going with me, no matter what she does," and walked on, anticipating the big moment. The various assault rifles, light machine guns, and a pistol she smuggled in from overseas were starting to weigh both her body down, and her conscience. The five hundred thousand yen weren't going to waste, and an extra seventy five thousand went to just the ammo, and a single silencer, just for her p. "I could easily swap out the silencer if one of the guns jam," was her sole reasoning for this.

Meandering through the halls, a lapse of judgement occurred, with the serious thought that going off now, in a large crowd, was the quickest way to blow her excitement, steel her nerves, and not be distracted if it fires in her bag. Her classroom was empty, void of even the teacher, but Tomoko was used to this loneliness by now. Earlier that morning, Tomoki desperately avoided eye contact, as if he knew what she planned for today. Golden Week was around the corner, and Tomoko was accepting the thought that she might not see it, alive or with her family.

Her desk had marker scribbled all over, some eloquent, other parts scrawled on like a toddler fondling his mother as he feeds upon her milk. Up in the top-right corner was a note, "I wish you would just fucking hang yourself," signed Kotomi Komiyama.

Elsewhere, various forms of, "This class would be so much better without you," including a livid review of her life, comparing her to a virus, and detailing the many, many ways the male student body would gang rape her, all in beautiful, almost satanic handwriting. Fortunately for Tomoko, nearly everyone who wrote on the desk included their name, so she at least could target them, instead of wasting precious ammo on students who, while deserving of death, shouldn't die now.

Racing through her brain, filled with useless trivia about Otome games, was the gnawing dread that she wouldn't have an opportunity, to let herself go. Her bag was really starting to pull her towards the floor, and she wondered if it could rest on the shelves, painted wooden marvels really.

After careful deliberation, and a glance out the window aside her seat, as far back as it was, her mind was resolute. "It's much better to simply get it over with, isn't it?" she muttered below her breath, and reached for the steel zipper. Slowly, she pulled away, unveiling the steel chambers she planned to execute her bullies with. Lifting a pair of pocketed belts out, her eyes gleaned over their contents, checking each one if it had all the magazines she bought.

They checked out, all except for one, which was missing one. Panicking, she wildly felt through the bag for it, while also avoiding accidentally pulling a trigger, both for her safety and the surprise factor so desperately needed during an operation such as this. After careful manipulation of parts unknown, Tomoko retrieved the missing magazine, and tucked it away in its proper pocket.

Tightening both belts around her waist, slim as she was, she lifted her bag over her arms, and put it on snugly. She didn't want anything to fall out, especially if it was a gun. Some bumbling buffoon could pocket it, or worse, stop her meticulous plans short before she could enact hard earned justice upon her unjust oppressors.

Before she could walk out of the room, a girl passed by, the fucking nerve she had. She turned her head, shaking in fear, possibly pissing her pants, shitting herself even. She opened her mouth as to scream, but nothing came out, and all she felt was momentary pain, before she collapsed on the floor, deader than a million doorknobs on contact. The rifle, ancient as it was, still could put down a troublesome meddling kid.

Proud of her work, Tomoko set off down the hall, shooting any soul unfortunate enough to be seen, cackling with an unnatural amount of joy. Her eyes strained to see more, but the only thing resting in this hall was a score of corpses from students unknown. Being careful not to dirty her shoes with their filthy blood, she tip-toed down the hall, checked her ammo, and switched the mag.

The classroom to her left was silent as a lamb, but the door was ajar, so someone must have entered, hoping to hide from Tomoko. She gently opened the door. Presiding in the corner, eyes glasses over, panties soaked yellow, was Kotomi, who shrieked in terror as Tomoko slowly approached, grinning ear to ear, whispering omens of ill.

Instead of simply shooting Kotomi in her stupid fucking face, Tomoko had a different, more exciting idea. Since she was the one with the gun, it would be easy for her to convince dunce Kotomi to turn over, raise her ass high into the sky, and remove her panties, or so she reasoned. Actually flipping over the limp, unconscious body was an ordeal fit for Heracles, but she managed to position her in the ideal position, arms acting as a head rest, ass flaunting itself high as a flag.

Reaching gingerly for her panties, Tomoko lowers them to Kotomi's knees, and licks her finger, almost like it was a tan popsicle. She then inserts it into Kotomi's asshole, slowly but steadily, and wriggles it around as a worm, burrowing for the dry season. Pleased with how pliable her ass was, she steadies the rifle atop, and shoves it in hard.

A loud yelp was heard from Kotomi, as it forced its way through her rectum, pulling small pieces of shit with it. Pleading with the little energy she had, all that came out was a quiet whimper of a, "no." Holding her aim steady, Tomoko exhaled just as she pulled the trigger.

Almost immediately a long gash appeared along Kotomi's back. Bits and pieces of her spine came flying out, squirting out blood as arteries close by exploded. Her stomach ruptured from the force of the explosion propelling the bullet straight through her spine, into her brain. Her head was opened from the inside with considerable force, given that her brain was splattered across the wall. As the body collapsed on the floor, Tomoko adjusted the belts, letting her feel her soaking wet panties. She had actually came from this depraved act, and she wanted more. Much, much more.

Lifting herself off the floor, she turned around only to be face to sickly, delinquent-esque face with Masaki Yoshida, another bully in an infinite line of insufferable idiots. Almost as if she has unlocked hidden potential from deep inside, she instinctively pulled out a pistol and fired it, missing Masaki by a few inches. Backing away from this maniac with a gun, Masaki slowly and calmly states, "Why are you doing this? What possessed you to go off and kill your fellow classmates?"

Tomoko reached for the assault rifle still shoved down Kotomi's asshole, ignoring Masaki entirely, and struggles to pull it out. Digging her heels in, grabbing closer to the end of the barrel, and using all her might, she finally popped out the gun, encrusted in shit. Tomoko silently stood, looking at her handiwork, and creaked out a manic grin. She turned around, lifted her aim, and held the trigger down for a few moments.

The bullets flew through the air, piercing their way through Masaki's clothes, opening deep holes in her chest. Gasping for air, she fell to the floor, quite shocked by Tomoko's apathy, and laid there, writhing in pain. She never wished death upon anyone, even herself, until now.

Tomoko lowered herself on her knees to the floor, delicately reached under Masaki's skirt, and pulled her panties down. She then gingerly removed both of their shoes, panting like a cat in heat. Then, she removed her own, damp and sweaty panties, careful to not let her feet touch them, and placed them upon her face, letting the holes in the sides be the eye holes of her makeshift mask. Raising Masaki's legs up, she slid off her panties, and put them on as if she was just leaving the shower.

Breathing heavily, Tomoko lookds down at Masaki, whose face was grimacing, contorting from the pain. She slowly unbuttoned her coat, her face tinted a rosey red as the thoughts of what she was about to do clouded her mind with glee. With each part of the jacket spreading apart, she could feel the desires reaching higher and higher into her mind, making her pant with excitement. As she reached the very end of the line, causing the jacket to open fully, she grinned lustfully, knowing how helpless she was to these feelings.

Masaki's cold body lay silent, open to any illicit advances, as if she was a slut, ringing doorbells, pleading for sex, sometimes even offering it for free. Tomoko slowly breathed in, deep, filling her lungs, raising her perky nipples higher, and exhaled just as calmly, letting her feelings subside for a while. Her scattered brain pieced itself together as she bent down to pick up her guns, and carry them by the straps. They fit snug against her bra, pronunciating her shapely breasts, letting her have a sigh of deserved relief.

Peering past the door, she quickly glanced to the left, before heading off in a sprint, looking for the next group of unsuspecting, wary students. Crying in a classroom was a group of students, all male, using their tears as lube to crank one last nut before their eventual deaths. Sauntering in, Tomoko experiences discomfort, not at their pathetic excuses for cocks, but rather at their situation. Down on their luck, wishing for it to all blow over. She squats down not far from them, lowers her bra just enough to expose erect nipples, and lets her left hand work its magic down under, all the while holding her rifle steady towards them.

She spoke clear but sultry, "If you really wish to live, start jerking for me, and do it hard. I don't want to be disappointed." She watches them silently, as a vulture would watch unsuspecting prey, waiting for their downfall. She tries to hide her emotions as she watches, waiting patiently for their pitiful fluids as they try their hardest. As they squirm, tears drying up, she begins pistoning her fingers to the slow rhythm of their hands. When the runt of the group cums pitifully, semen dribbling down him, everyone else began to laugh, to torment, to harass him, for his insignificant stamina and his measly load.

When the next guy splooges, this time a bit longer and with more force, Tomoko lowers her bra a bit, letting morw of her supple breasts hang over, and fires two quick shots, hitting both of the guys square in the head. As they fall to the floor, she continues with her egging, "I can't be the only one here able to last a long time! Are you all really that pathetic? No wonder you're virgins!" Their faces were soaked with tears, streaming down in a waterfall on either side of their nose, barely hiding their deep red blush.

Unable to support herself, she lowers herself such that she sits, legs spread wide, and rests her head against a wall. She continues to masturbate to these boys, not possibly older than 12, jerking off to her. Her body siezes up as she begins to orgasm, legs shaking as her clitoris got rubbed by her palm, and her fingers contracted unconsciously, pulling the trigger and letting these young, nubile kids get shot, holes riddled throughout. Her body begins to spasm as she cums again, squirting onto her hand and into the linen of Masaki's panties. How expensive, just being dirtied by this troubled girl's hands.

Her legs still uneasy, she hobbles up to one of the now dead underclassmen, and plants her lips onto his, forcing her tongue deep into his mouth. She wraps it around his, and reaches under his shirt to fondle with his nipples. They were noticeably hard, and she just really had to rub them, letting them flop around, all the while swirling her tongue onto his cheeks, his teeth, and under his tongue. Her eyes closed as she let go of her gun, and began to lightly stroke his penis. All she wanted was him, alive or dead, warm or cold, and nothing was going to keep them apart, especially if she can play with his cute body like it was ordained to be this way.

When she felt content with her actions, she slowly left his mouth agape, spittle leaving small bridges between the two, fingers lightly gripping his shaft, now soft from overuse. She retrieved the gun from the floor, but instead of simply tightening it on her like before, she settled it on a desk, and unhooked her bra completely, reaching behind to let it flutter to the ground. After quickly checking how much ammo was loaded, seeing only dust in the magazine, she dropped it next to her bra, and opened a pocket on her nylon belt. After selecting the right mag, she inserted it in slowly, as if she herself was fucking the gun, and re-strapped it to her chest.

Walking out of the room, she saw a teacher on the phone, worried and scurrying around, hoping the police would, "Just arrive for fuck's sake! There's a student with a gun, killing people!"

As Tomoko walked out of the room, stepping softly to hide her footsteps, already quiet from the lack of shoes on her feet, socks conforming to the elegant dimensions of her toes. Before the teacher could notice her, she shot a few times, letting the bullets cut through the target's body, leaving holes where learning once stood. The teacher's phone was still unlocked, but splattered with blood, making the screen's sensitive touch screen unresponsive.

As Tomoko placed the device on top of the teacher's smooth forehead, she saw that her victim was still alive. Sighing indignantly, she shot the phone, destroying the hard drive inside, blowing both the phone's data and the skull of whomever owned it apart, spreading brains, logic processors, and bone fragments across the hall.

Quietly pacing, more and more students were in the halls, unaware of their tormentor's presence. Careful to avoid their sights, Switching magazines with care, she then removed her belts, letting them fall to the floor with a resounding thump. Her skirt was starting to chafe, pressing against her skin with every turn, and with every step it only felt worse and worse. Removing them with surgical precision, she let them flutter down, a dead butterfly coasting on weak air, revealing panties soaked, dripping with Tomoko's cum, filling in space where the fabric had holes, and weighing down the frills of the lattice surrounding the edges.

Picking up the belts, she was alarmed when she saw there were no more rifle magazines. How could she have let them be wasted already?

Just then, a small group of students walked into the bathroom, with one particularly irritating girl proclaiming, "Can you believe that we're supposedly being shot up right now?"

The other one, louder and brattier, started her sentence, "I know, but who wou-" before noticing the nearly naked, leaking body, masked with a pair of white panties, stained where the vagina would rest, staring right at them.

"Who is that?" asked the first girl, unsure of how to react to its diminutive stature, or the rifle held solidly in both arms.

"I don't know, not do I want to know. Can we please just get done here, and go back to class?"

As the two of them turned back around, suspicious of the girl watching them, Tomoko whipped the barrel towards her onlookers, and slaughtered them, along with the other two in the group. Their bodies piled in front of the door, blocking her in until either she moves them, or some desperate girl gets too entranced by her need to relieve herself, and moves them out of the way.

Eying the youngest, Tomoko picked her up with ease, and stared at her body, lustfully examining her for anything that would please her. Gently lowering her to the ground, she removed the body's skirt, letting it rest atop the toilet seat, and inserted her fingers into the girl's panties, squeezing them into her vagina. As she rocked herself atop the girl's thigh, her fingers gingerly applied themselves to the walls, spreading and rubbing like her buttered toast breakfast.

Panting hard, laboring each breath through the thick, damp mask, she felt herself teetering on the edge, and made the rash decision to lift up the panties enclosing her mouth beneath, and kissed the girl she loved dear. Her tongue repeated the same, vicarious motions she had with the sad, limp boy, but had an unfounded vigor to them this time around. She felt her eyes roll back into her head, and her fingers spasmed with glee, as the repetitive rocking torture of her clitoris worked its way up her spine, overloading her brain with explosions of arousal.

Drool started to leak from the corners of her mouth, and the borrowed pair was starting to not hold any more liquids, letting it seep through onto the linoleum tiles of the bathroom floor. After unsteadily letting herself up, leaning against the wall to help keep her body upright, she stood there waiting, allowing herself to get some rest, and rejuvenate her muscles.

When she felt as if she wouldn't collapse back onto the floor, she meandered towards the pile of gear she had, and bent down to pick it up, forcing her soaking undergarments off her waist, giving her luscious ass cheeks room to settle, and not be squished amongst each other. She walked towards the mirror above one of the sinks, and stared at her disheveled, rosey face, hidden away from the world behind some cheap dollar store panties. Grabbing the bridge between her eye holes, she pulled it off, pulling hair with it, exposing her beauty, her soft eyes holding up small bags from her nights crying to sleep. Cheeks like dumplings, with a petite nose not distracting others from seeing her smile, formed with 2 somewhat full lips. Tomoko considered them half empty, for she only ever got to kiss cold corpses with them, not counting her brother Tomoki, but the only times she did that were when he was a few years younger, before he fell asleep after she did.

Leaving one belt behind, emptied from her overusage of her gun, she rested the other one on her hips, and gave it just enough of a tug to prevent it from falling. Pushing open the heavy, wooden door to the lavatory, she expected to see more fellow classmates out in the halls, open targets even, but nobody was there. Stepping barefoot onto the carpets of the school shouldn't have been so unfamiliar. It was just an ordinary carpet, after all was said. It must have been the inability, the societal pressure to not taint the floor with your disgusting, dirty feet, holding her feelings in, holding her feet captive in tight shoes, whose rims forced skin to buckle and blister.

Growing accustomed to the unfamiliar terrain, Tomoko wandered the halls, unsure of where to go. There were so many options, so many ways students could line themselves up, so many hiding spots. It wasn't before long that her discomfort grew into impatience, compounding into a fury, at a game most dangerous, a game she wasn't expecting to play. She was expecting all the students to be cowering, crying even, huddled in a corner, under a desk, anywhere where they couldn't run away easily.

The glass doors of the library were shattered, intentionally by the blowers, meant to signal how reading isn't as clear as you hope, but rather a puzzle, where the end result is more satisfying than even the richest blend of coffee. Pushing them aside, Tomoko felt the ridges slip between her fingers, and moaned lightly, before rubbing her hand across the various croppings and shapes, letting the pleasure from before seep into her veins, forcing her dainty nipples erect. Squealing like the pig-whore she was destined to be, she walked through the main hall, firing her pistol at anyone who dared cross her path. The lack of people in the room meant she had to crawl on the floor, where the carpet rubbed right up to her, but when she saw another fucking dolt who wrote their name on the desk, her desk, she rose up, springing from beneath their feet, sweating and stark naked. Her small breasts bounced higher, jiggling in excitement, clearly showing by her dripping cum, leaking from her unknowingly. She glistened under the lights, letting her curves settle, and before Akari could react, her left breast was shot, a hole dug straight to her heart. Clutching her copy of Of Mice and Men, she collided with the shelf behind her, killing her from blunt force trauma.

Tomoko looked past the halls of shelves, stacked ceiling high, choking with books of all sizes, and saw a police officer, standing at the desk, chatting with the librarian, who wasn't there when she walked in. Sensing the presence of other officers in the vicinity, she inserted the pistol into her mouth, feeling its cold steel against her tongue. Tears streamed down her face, waterfalls far stronger than Niagra Falls. "This is it," she realized, a thought lost in a field of copper roses, and silently bid herself adieu.

The shot rang across the walls, alerting a salacious policeman, who bolted to what was the corpse of a young lady, naked, dried tears marking her cheeks, and blood flowing down her back, exiting from a hole impossible to make naturally. He leaned over, praying to his God, "May the Lord have mercy upon my soul, amen." Unzipping his pants, he saw how much her breasts looked like the dumplings his mother made every day for his school lunch, and how her fair skin contrasted with the greasy black hair, detailing her wide hips and slim waist. As he lowered his boxers, red-on-gold plaid and flannel, the thought of her body bouncing on his penis excited him, helping to stiffen his proud service member.

Grasping at her armpits, he brings her onto his dick, fiddling with her labia and clitoris, before sliding into her, completing a pair never considered. Leaning her back against a shelf, he humps the corpse, almost cold from exposure, and brings his mouth to her's, letting his womanizing magic move the world, while his gyrating hips bring the world to him. Her vagina was tight, constricting him as a chastity cage prevents one from becoming erect, but it only improved his boner.

As his head felt lighter than a feather, the euphoria of the situation grasped hold of his emotions, letting him expel his sperm into the body, reaching the womb, unable to fertilize an egg frozen in time. Pulling out of the chamber, soaked in hot, sticky sperm, dripping out as magma globules, he placed her against a shelf, and pulled from his shirt pocket a trusted Sharpie. Writing in clear, legible kanji on top of her right breast, "Sex slave, free usage for all," was his message. Lifting his boxers back on, and pulling up his jeans, tight around his thighs, he zipped back up, and walked off, wishing to seduce another young girl, hoping she breathes still, and not colder than ice. 


End file.
